Page 113 of The Stone Secret
Beads of sweat have already broken out on my brow.
I take a left at the intersection and onto a narrow road that leads to the market vista.
It’s not hard to find parking. Not many people on this side of the town use cars because there are several port zones to get around.
I shrug off my jacket before grabbing the case containing Cameron’s blood from the back seat. The inside is specially designed to keep the sample cold, and hopefully the switches from mundane to magic haven’t messed with the structure of the case.
Van locked, I head to the nearest port—an ornate lamppost with a beautiful peacock statue set on top.
It takes one touch of my palm to transport me to the post opposite Calista’s bookstore, and there she is, arranging some books in a window display. She looks up and spots me. Is that a sigh?
I grin and raise my hand. She shakes her head and ducks back into the store.
She loves me, really.
The bell above the door tinkles as I enter.
“I had a feeling I was about to get a headache today,” Calista says from behind the counter.
“You knew I was coming, Cal. I sent a message.”
“Bloody Pollock. Nosy fucker.”
Pollock is the resident telegram man for Mistlegate. We keep in touch via magigram, and he let me know that Calista was back from whatever ‘job’ she’d been on.
“No oneinvitedyou, though,” an irritated nasally voice says from somewhere behind her.
I spot the speaker on the shelf behind her—a thick, leather-bound tome with intricate stitchwork that makes up a face.
It scowled at me. “We’re busy. Go away.”
“Now, now, Augustus,” Calista says. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t scare away the customers.”
“He’s not a paying customer,” Augustus retorts.
“He might be.” She arches a slender dark brow at me. “Right?”
“I can pay you in news.”
She rolls her eyes. “What do I need with news of the inner rims?”
“Just because the graynites won’t come this far west doesn’t mean you’re safe. The world could change at any time. The rift could open again, the alpha could attack, and—”
“The Stone Council will deal with it. Isn’t that what the big bad guardians are for?” She gives me a cheeky kitten grin.
I can’t help but smile back. This woman has way too much charm, and if I’m honest, I may be a little in love with the minx. “Yes. That’s what they’re for.”
“We have our own problems,” Augustus huffs. “Like just today, we had to—”
“Augustus,” Calista snaps quickly. “Remember how we spoke about discretion? Why don’t you take a nap?”
The book huffs, and the stiches on its cover melt away.
Calista presses her palms to the counter and looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on the case in my hand before sweeping back up to my face. “I hate how pretty you are.” She sighs. “Okay, so what do you need, Marcel?”
I’m so used to being referred to as Willowman that for a moment I’m thrown by her use of my first name. “I need a blood sample analyzed.”
“Then go to a lab. I’m sure your council has several.”
